It dulls and numbs—the rote, routine,
the never-ending track.
Appliance drone and glowing panels
distract, deflect and mute
the nursery rhymes
and far-off roar of hollow plastic wheels.
So nearly missed, your wayward glance
and crumpled note—
the upturned leaf before the storm.
Empty gestures, favorite flowers,
cannot bridge the widening distance
in small and darkened rooms.
Reach across the blue formica, the shining,
empty table. Inhale the stifling air
conditioned—exhale and graze the wrist, the hand.
Speak your mind, your heart above
florescent hum and static voices.
I will listen, still